Hi Darling Ones,

I hope wherever you are Autumn is in full effect. When the sun shines, the light in Minnesota is exquisite – golden and buttery. In the afternoon the sun hits my tree and when the wind is blowing I watch the shadows of the dancing leaves around my living room sighing in contentment.

Fall really is the best. Though I miss the pool, I’m glad soup season is here. I’m making stock for chicken noodle soup as I type.

So, I wanted to tell you about my cousin Lindsay’s wedding last week. This was my first big family event and social outing since my stroke (March 2023). The whole experience was beautiful and emotional and overwhelming.

I can never tell if it’s my ignorant inner-ableism or my eldest-daughter perfectionism, but every time I learn something new about navigating life in a wheelchair I’m astounded. Like, for instance, when one uses wheels to get around one should not where a long, flowy skirt that is destined to get tangled up in the aforementioned wheels. This probably should have been obvious, but it was brand new information to me.

The skirt situation left me stranded at my table most of the night, which was 50% bummer and 50% a-ok due to the overwhelm. Even if I had been more appropriately dressed I would have struggled around all the chairs. Big event spaces seem accessible until there are people and chairs in them. Going to the bathroom was a literal obstacle course and I had to have someone clear the way for me. It was humbling.

Because this was the first time I’d seen so many of these people since my stroke there was no small amount of awkwardness. One of my cousins had no idea what to say, so he just kinda looked at me and my wheelchair and shrugged. A few other cousins kept tell me how good I looked. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was dressed up or because they expected me to be a shriveled prune. I never found out.

What I did learn is that where strangers used to constantly remark on my extraordinary height, now they compliment my glasses. Perhaps I have an appearance that just begs to be remarked upon.

Various wedding guests told me how cool my glasses were. It happened at least five times. Which is. . . weird? I love my glasses but they aren’t particularly noteworthy. My guess is that because my height is unnoticeable and the wheelchair is quite noticeable people went with the next most obvious thing. I bet if I weren’t wearing glasses my hair would have been a hot topic.

As I like to say whenever I come home from a successful outing, nobody died. Though a few very well-meaning men nearly died when they tried to help me over a small lip that separated the room from the deck. At one point I had to say, “I just need you to all back off!” I easily got over the bump when they gave me enough room to turn my chair around and handle it backwards. Chivalry, while not dead, can be a pain in the ass.

Looking so good,
Jodi

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Hello Darling Ones,

Two letters in two days? Count your lucky stars!

I wanted to write today because it’s Eye Day and I want to bellyache about it.

There are a lot of really great things about Eye Day. Namely, not losing my entire sight to macular edema and diabetic retinopathy. That’s not even exaggeration for humor’s sake. That’s the actual, factual truth. Without this treatment I will go blind.

Another good thing about Eye Day? The security guy who works at the building the Retina Consultants of Minnesota is in. Sister #4 & I love this guy. A few months ago he met us at the door with a wheelchair.

Usually, Sister #4 drives because my mom hates 494, and drops her off at the entrance. Mom then hauls ass upstairs to get a wheelchair for me, and brings it down. While I could lurch up there with my walker, coming down after the shots is scary because they wipe out my vision.

So back in like October when he met us at the door with the chair, saying, “I saw your name on the schedule and thought this would help.”

Sister #4 & I were instantly smitten. We are convinced he has a crush on my mom. Sometimes he even rides up in the elevator with us and they discuss the weather.

“Is he gonna be our new dad?” I tease my mom, who is done with men after my dad (he died in 2021).
“I’m calling him Dad,” my sister said. “I hope he doesn’t mind.”

Even though what happens at the Retina Consultants’ office sucks, they are top-notch pros. A well-oiled, perfectly choreographed ballet. Every time is the same. I wait in the main waiting room until I’m called back for eyes tests. Then Waiting Room B until I’m called for scans, and then back to it until Dr. D is ready to see me.

Seeing this in action is much cooler and impressive than I’m making it out to be. Waiting Room B is primo, chef’s kiss eavesdropping territory. Today featured a bitter women who believed “the left infiltrated healthcare and is poisoning all the babies.” She was bitter because she was dumped for not being vaxxed. She’d never even been tested for COVID she bragged to the woman next to her. She claimed the man was no big loss. “He’s forty-five and divorced,” she said. “He never even had kids. Just dogs.”

I should have asked her for his phone number. He sounds good to me.

Despite all this, Eye Day sucks because once I get the treatment my vision is super garbage for the rest of the day. I spend the day with achey eyes that feel super full, which they are because of the medicine injected into them. But the worst part is it washes out everything. I spend the day feeling like I’m looking through a thick grey fog that doesn’t clear until I get up the next day.

Plus, there’s tiny floaters which I can see pretty clearly. So not only does everything look fuzzy, I keep jerking my head convinced there’s a fly in my house.

It also sucks, because I hate using the wheelchair. It makes me feel lazy and like I’m in the way. It’s such a shitty ablelist thing. I have never seen another person in a wheelchair and thought such things, but when it’s me it’s somehow different?

[[[[[[gt;yh <---- That's what Mortimer had to say. Anyway, Dr. D said it was normal for me to have a tough time seeing despite the new glasses. When I said the distortion was more noticeable now that things are clearer he shook his head in agreement. "That's why we keep doing this," he said. So that's eye day. Zero fun. 100% worth it. Love, Jodi

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Hey Darling Ones,

Over the weekend I watched not one but two docuseries on the Twin Flames cult. One on Netflix and the other on Amazon Prime. Both fascinating.

I love documentaries about cults and con artists, which if you think about it are kind of the same thing.

If you don’t know about the Twin Flames Universe it’s a pyramid scheme/religion run by two jokers who claim to know who your twin flame is, which is like a soulmate on steroids and for some number of dollars they guarantee they will hook you up with your twin flame. Then you will live happily ever after boning and being rich and happy.

Of course, it’s complete bullshit and sadly, vulnerable people fall for it.

Even though I don’t believe there’s one soulmate for each person, I did spend a lot of time thinking about my twin flames. Here’s a short list.

1. Matt Dillon. Probably.
2. Fergus. When she curls up on my chest and her head nestled underneath my chin? I turn into a pile of goo.
3. Leslie Jones I spent parts of the weekend when I wasn’t watching Twin Flames listening to her memoir, and now my inner voice is Leslie Jones’s voice. I call everybody a motherfucker. For example, while I watched the Twin flame shows I kept saying to Fergus, “Who in hell would follow the word of that Pete Campbell looking motherfucker?”
4. My eye doctor. He is a petite Filipino man who I’ve been going to for years. I saw him last week, and he was so pumped about how much better my vision (20/20 s 20/40) is going to be with my new glasses (which should be here in 7 to 10 business days). Plus, he was all, “you should put new lenses in those frames, because they really suit your face.”
5. Pickled red onions. I just made my fourth pint of pickled red onions in the last three months. For Christmas I got a mandoline and some new jars that are a little easier for my hands to handle, so I’m gonna pickle everything this winter.
6. Harry Connick, Jr. circa 1990-1993. I’m revisiting my Harry Connick phase. I cannot get enough of his version of Lazybones. I listen to it every night before I go to sleep because I am ridiculous.

Will all you Darling One ones cross your fingers that this is the last blurry-ass update?Hopefully the next update I’ll be able to see clearly and this will help my writing again and I can get work because your girl is broke.

Love, Jodi.

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Hi Darling Ones,

I am very cranky today. This says a lot, because my normal demeanor includes a lot of low-level crankiness. Today, it’s extra super very.

Can I list off all my reasons for crank? Of course I can. This is my website. I can do what I want.

I’m not gonna though. All the things making me grouchy are the average things that make everyone grouchy. Broke. Busy. Got a summons for jury duty when I JUST had a stroke. My Aunt Tete died.You know the drill.

Besides, I don’t want to tell you all about my derelict cervix even though my mom already told everyone down at The Windmill (BFK’s restaurant).

I continue to be a tsunami of bummer.

However, yesterday I had my second awful eye treatment and it was moderately less awful. I did not faint and the doctor was happy that my eyes are showing improvement. My vision is still garbage, but not as garbagey as before.

Time & patience, right?

–insert 572 barf emojis–

And the best thing, besides the not fainting, is my floaters are already gone.

Do you know about floaters? Have you experienced them before?

They are a trip. Basically they are air bubbles in your eye and you can see them. I did my best to recreate what my floaters look like (see image at the top of this post). They are black circles that are transparent in the middle. When you move your eyes around, the floaters move around. Sometimes they reconfigure themselves giving your vision a kaleidoscope affect.

It’s a trip, man. At least I think it is. I never did LSD because I believed Nancy Reagan and didn’t want a scrambled egg brain. Little did I know there’s more than one way to get brain damage.

Anyway, my floaters are gone and I am cranky.

Love & lollipops,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

For the official record, the brain weasels were right.

I have both macular edema and diabetic retinopathy.

THIS NEXT PART IS NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH PLEASE SKIP
Now I have to go to the eye specialist every four weeks and get medicine injected into my right eye. I am not exaggerating at all. It’s rough. I had it done last week and it took me two days to recover.

THIS PART IS A LITTLE SAFER
I did not take well to the treatment for my eye problems and fainted for the first time in my life. One second I was sitting in the wheelchair feeling woozy and the next I seemed upside down with my feet in the air, chaos filling the room.

When I passed out they tipped me back in the chair and got my feet above my heart.

As I came to they sat me back up and pressed a small can of orange juice into my hands. My mom was crying, telling the medical staff, “I just lost my husband in September. I thought I was losing my daughter too.”

Damn.

That’s the latest in my avalanche of woe. It sucks, but hopefully the treatments will help and I’ll be able to see clearly again.

Not gonna lie though, I have a mammogram, a pap smear, and a colonoscopy in the coming weeks. I’m worried that the hits will continue. This is what happens when you ignore your body for 50 years.

Thankfully, the Lexapro helps keep brain weasels at bay.

Despite everything, the awfulness remains manageable. I’m graduating from in-home physical & occupational therapy this week, which means I start going to the clinic soon. My goal is to have 0 appointments next week as a birthday gift to myself.

Oh yeah! I almost forgot. My Aunt Anna sent me some lovely white & purple flowers to cheer me up after the fainting incident. It worked.

Awfully yours,
Jodi

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